


train wreak town's crown princess

by ODed_on_jingle_jangle



Series: shrapnel is shrapnel [1]
Category: Dare Me (TV 2019), Dare Me - Megan Abbott
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Bullying, Character Study, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Eating Disorders, F/F, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Nudity, Painful Sex, Sex Tapes, Statutory Rape, Teacher-Student Relationship, Vaginal Fisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24207598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ODed_on_jingle_jangle/pseuds/ODed_on_jingle_jangle
Summary: Tacy doesn’t mean to see. She just came back to get her jacket.
Relationships: Colette French/Addy Hanlon
Series: shrapnel is shrapnel [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757197
Comments: 14
Kudos: 58





	train wreak town's crown princess

**Author's Note:**

> I have...so, so many WIPs. So, so many. I mean, the number of my WIPs is in the double digits. Why do I start new things when I have old things to finish?? Stupid brain. Oh well. Here's Tacy being a little shit and doing something similar to what Beth does in the first episode, except infinitely worse. 
> 
> As always, please heed the tags. Uncomfortable content ahead. Title is kind of from a song.

Tacy doesn’t mean to see. She just came back to get her jacket. 

She’d left it here, in Coach’s bathroom, hours before. When she’d taken it off upon kneeling before the ceramic throne of the toilet. She’d purged her guts of the bourbon and pizza Coach ordered for them. She wants to be a flyer, after all, has to stay nice and light, pixie trim. Hadn’t realized until hours after the party was over that she'd left behind her jacket. 

Once she did, she’d paled and cursed. It wasn’t just any jacket, after all, it was the vicuña wool jacket her dad had brought her back from a business trip in Peru. Her favorite jacket, the softest, most comfortable she owned, and expensive to boot. 

Tacy couldn’t just leave it. So she’d crept downstairs and borrowed her dad’s car. Technically, Tacy wasn’t supposed to drive alone. She only had her learner’s permit, but she figured it would be fine. Coach’s house was only a few blocks away. 

All she had to do was get her jacket and leave. No big deal. 

At this point, Tacy had figured Coach would be in bed. It was late and she didn’t want to bug her, so when she shuffled up the porch steps, she let herself in instead of knocking. No reason to complicate anything or get on Coach's bad side by annoying her in the middle of the night. She'll just make a beeline to the bathroom, grab the jacket and go, no reason to make a fuss.

Tacy gets that far, but then she hears noises. A gasp, a needy groan, mattress springs taking weight on the other side of the door. Not the door she entered through. The other door, the one leading into the master bedroom, the one that's open just a crack. Through it, from the corner of her eye, she glimpses brown satin shimmering beneath the dim diffuse of yellow light. Tacy takes a peek and freezes as she realizes it isn’t satin at all. 

It is Addy naked on Coach’s bed, skin glistening prettily with perspiration. Legs spreading as Coach climbs over her. Coach's lithe form is also without a stitch, wearing nothing but shiny gold nail polish as her hand smoothly glides between Addy’s thighs. Addy shudders, bowing forward, mouth seeking Coach’s. 

Their lips meet in the middle. Addy’s hands grope at Coach’s back, seeking purchase. Gross, vulgar sounds wetly slap the air. Lips smacking together, tongues licking sloppily, the slickness of Addy’s pussy under Coach’s quickening fingers. 

Tacy doesn’t mean to see. She came back for a jacket and found the jackpot instead. She very carefully, very quietly opens the door just a bit wider. Coach and Addy don’t notice, too busy, too involved— Coach just added another finger and Addy releases a breathy moan against her mouth. 

Tacy slips her phone out and focuses its camera between the crack in the door, centering them in the frame. She thumbs the ‘record’ button and watches everything continue through the screen, relishing every second. She feels like a kid with the biggest, richest hot fudge sundae right in front of her face, topped off with all the fixings. 

Addy’s body ripples, toes curling on the bed as her rapid breaths go ragged. Coach’s breaths puff from her lips heavy, sultry, but steadier. Controlled, like the rhythm of her fingers between Addy’s legs. 

Tacy does her best to stay still and silent, excitement crackling through her veins. She can barely believe this is happening. Coach playing Mrs. Robinson with Addy freaking Hanlon, right before her eyes. 

Tacy isn’t— well, she isn’t _that_ way. But as she watches Addy’s model long, lovely legs shift over the sheets, as she hears the velvety moan roll off Addy’s tongue when Coach adds a fourth finger— well, she thinks a part of her can understand the appeal. It’s almost bewitching to see them this way. Two people she’s secretly terrified of at their most vulnerable, entirely exposed, on the edge of scandal in the night. 

“Open up for me,” Coach commands. “C’mon, Addy, you know. Like a parachute.” 

Addy bobs her head, opening her legs wider as Coach tapers her fingers, hand curled beaklike. Tacy admires in morbid fascination as Coach thrusts into her past the knuckles. Addy throws her head back with a scream that must be wrung from the depths of her lungs, that must pierce the sound barrier itself, so loud Tacy can feel it. It vibrates against her skin, reaches to touch something inside of her. For just a fraction of a heartbeat, it makes her wonder if she is doing something wrong. 

Then she remembers the time when she was ten and Beth and Addy were supposed to take her trick-or-treating. Instead, they tricked her into going inside that old, broken down barn at the abandoned farm on Ponderosa road. Remembers how the cobwebs had fallen from the corridors and clung to her clothes, the spiders they belonged to crawling across her skin. How she'd shrieked and urgently swatted and slapped at them, horrified they might lay egg sacs in her skin.

Tacy remembers how she could hear the chitters of bats hanging from the refers and old animal bones crunching under her shoes. Those things would have been terrifying on any night, but it was Halloween night and that made everything even scarier. She’d turned around and went racing back to the door, only to find she’d been locked inside. 

Tacy doesn’t know how long it actually was before they let her out. It must’ve been hours, it’d felt like days. She does remember that when they finally, finally let free her, the underwear pressed uncomfortably damp between her legs but the piss itself had long gone cold. 

She remembers Beth and Addy laughing like hyenas, their high-fives and knee slaps. Their savage smiles gleaming silver in the moonlight. She remembers these things and the speckle of hesitation is banished from her soul. 

“It hurts,” Addy whimpers, bowing forward again, hands hovering above Coach’s back now, visibly shaking. 

“You can take it, Addy,” Coach promises. “You’re strong. It’s going to feel good, you just have to breathe, have to open wider.” 

Coach rotates her wrist and begins pumping her fist. Addy sucks in _whoosh_ of a breath, hands spasming wildly, eyes stretching saucer wide. For a moment, Tacy thinks she’s going to pass out. Then she clutches onto Coach’s back with everything she’s got and sinks her teeth into the meat of Coach’s shoulder. Now Coach’s head tips back as she lets out a low moan that melts through Tacy like cotton candy on the tongue. 

When Addy’s jaw releases, strawberries splotch Coach’s skin under the teeth marks. Blood wells in the divots, but Coach seems pleased more than anything. 

“That’s right, Addy,” she purrs, pumping her fist even faster. 

Addy buries her face in the hollow of Coach’s shoulder. Tacy can’t see it anymore. She doesn’t have to. She has more than enough proof, more than enough unmistakable video evidence of who is who and what they’re doing. 

She presses ‘stop’ and slips her phone back in her pocket. Quietly pulls the master bedroom door to shorten the crack she’d peered through and leaves from the hall door she’d entered through. Slinks through Coach’s living room like a ninja on a mission and exits the house, hurries back to her dad’s car as her composure begins to break. 

Tacy throws herself into the driver’s seat and cackles gleefully, giddy tears in her eyes as her heart soars with pure ecstasy. Never, ever would she have imagined discovering something like this. A goldmine so grand right under her nose. 

If she didn’t think she was on her way to being Top Girl before, she’s sure of it now. Positive. Beth may be the queen of the squad, but Addy is the dragon. A queen is nothing without her dragon. 

And Tacy finally has the perfect weapon to slay it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Partly inspired by the parallel to Beth in the first episode, partly inspired by Tacy's lines at Regionals. Now I'm going to go make myself work on the shit I already started, but um, might not update for awhile depending on how my dad's health is looking. He ain't in a great spot rn, it's actually kind of scaring the shit outta me. Somehow writing is a good distraction?? 
> 
> It usually is, I guess.


End file.
